


Love Letter

by Tarlan



Category: Century Hotel (2001)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-23
Updated: 2011-05-23
Packaged: 2017-10-19 18:23:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/203901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael receives a letter from Danny</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Letter

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **smallfandomfest** Fest09 and **mmom** 2011 Day 23

The sound of the postman delivering mail brought Michael unsteadily to his feet. He grabbed hold of the tall chair back and reached for his walking cane. The muscle in his leg twinged painfully as he hobbled towards the front door and down the pathway to his mailbox, where he found a single letter waiting for him. He recognized the writing immediately, and it took all of his strength not to tear into it immediately. Instead, he made his way back inside as quickly as possible, climbing the narrow and near treacherous stairway to his bedroom before dropping heavily to his bed and fumbling with the letter.

Letters from the front line were rare and precious, and he wanted to suspend this moment for a little longer, half excited and half afraid of the words he might find inside. The cane had dropped carelessly to the floor and rolled under the bed, and he eyed the tip peeking out in annoyance, aware that it would be difficult to reach it later, but the feel of the envelope in his hand made it seem so unimportant at this moment. Deliberately placing the envelope beside him, he took a moment to kick off his shoes and peel off his jacket before turning his attention back to the letter. Michael picked it up and he let his fingers caress the familiar blocky lettering of his name, written in Danny's familiar hand writing. He brought the letter to his face and inhaled deeply, but it held no lingering scent of his best friend--the man he loved.

Thoughts of Danny whirled through him. Memories of ardent kisses snatched in secret, of fumbling with clothing in the dark or behind locked doors. He recalled days traveling far from the town in Danny's rusty old pick-up, of seeking remote spots where no one would stumble upon them. The ingrained fear of discovery had often marred the moment--a snap of a twig or a voice in the street beyond. He didn't like it but he understood why Danny had started seeing Beth, wanting to throw off any suspicion after someone mentioned that he and Danny seemed a little too close, and too wrapped up in each other.

And then Danny decided to prove his masculinity by enlisting...and Michael couldn't bear to let him go alone.

Since returning from the war, Michael had found it difficult to find work. The factory and local farms had no use for a man who could barely stand upright unsupported, so he was grateful for the sedentary work offered by Beth's father. It was mostly paperwork, filling in order forms, and if he could have found any other work then he would have taken it gladly. Not because of the work itself, but for the sense of betrayal he felt towards Beth and her father every time Danny was mentioned in conversation--and every time a letter arrived from the front.

He dropped the letter beside him again and ran a hand through his short hair, but the desire for Danny was stronger than any sense of guilt for what they were to each other. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly before loosening his suspenders. He let them drop from his shoulders before unbuttoning his shirt, wanting to provide another delay, but all too soon his finger was sliding between the envelope body and flap, gently tugging them apart until paper gave way, tearing raggedly. Inside was the prize and he pulled out the two sheets folded together, opening them so he could read the address.

_Dearest Emmee_

Michael smiled wryly at the name. _Emmee_. M. E. Michael Eldridge. Even the envelope's address was to this effeminate nickname, used as a ploy to hide a guilt that they shared--of two men loving each other.

_Dearest Emmee,_

_I wish you could see how much I miss you. The days are long but the nights are so much worse without you._

Danny went on to describe the conditions on the front line as the Canadian forces pushed into Germany, as though Michael had not witnessed the worst already before a bullet tore through his thigh during the attack on the German forces holding Walcheren Island, and ended his part in the war. It was part of Danny's ruse, pretending that the love letter was to a woman left behind so he could openly declare his affection without fear of revealing his true nature--and though it stung at having to hide their love, Michael knew it was all he would ever have from Danny. He knew that once Danny returned from the war and married Beth, even that much might be lost to him.

He read the letter through to the end, before going back to the start and reading it over again, letting the words seep into his bones, and into his heart. He closed his eyes and laid back on the bed, holding the letter against his bare chest as he let his memory supply the physical form of Danny that went with the disembodied words written on the page. He flipped open the fastenings on his pants and touched himself, recalling the illicit trysts that had started when they were barely into their teenage years, smiling in remembrance of those early days when they had touched so nervously, with their eyes slowly opening up to all the possibilities--as long as they were never caught. He recalled the last time they had touched intimately only hours before the landing at Normandy, with far more experienced hands and mouths desperate to caress and taste, fueled by fear that it could be the last time.

When he came, Danny's name was on his lips, spoken as a whisper despite a desire to scream his lover's name out across the roof tops of this prejudiced small town.

After his erratic breathing had slowed, and he had wiped the mess from his belly and hand, Michael picked up the dislodged letter, grimacing at the single drop of come staining the paper. It was now March 1945 and the last time he had seen Danny was when his friend carried him off the causeway, and as he read the final words for the fourth time, he hoped they would come true:

_They say the war will be over before Christmas, and then, my dearest Emmee, we will be together again._

_Forever Yours,_

_Danny_

END


End file.
